


War Games

by turnofthesentry



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Blood, Gen, Loyalty, M/M, Murder, Obedience, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 21:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnofthesentry/pseuds/turnofthesentry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norman doesn't get Bob involved in anything that Bob isn't necessary for.</p>
<p>(That's what he's come to believe. That's what he tells himself.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Games

The air is thick with blood when Bob steps instead; his nose wrinkles at the stench, which is not just _strong,_ but _suffocating._ The room is small, poorly ventilated, and poorly lit as well -- it takes him a moment of focus before he can make out Norman's hunched silhouette. 

What stands out more than the smell, though, are the screams. Norman's silhouette moves, flickering this way and that like a candle flame. His arm moves in a way a surgeon's might. Or a butcher's. Bob stands by the doorway, unease mingled with the blank sort of dissociation he's grown very accustomed to. When he closes his eyes, the screams ring even sharper. 

He wonders if this is right. He doesn't know who's on that table; he could see them even through the near darkness if he tried, but he doesn't even want to look in that direction. The smell of blood is bad enough. He _trusts_ Norman; Norman helps, Norman cares. Norman doesn't get Bob involved in anything that Bob isn't necessary for.

(That's what he's come to believe. That's what he tells himself.) 

"Bob." Norman addresses him without looking up; he knows, as usual, that Bob is there without having to see him. "Come help me." 

Bob moves close without a sound. It's too dark to see the man on the table in detail -- he can discern it's a man but not if it's a man he ever knew, the face is too contused and bloody. Bob's presence there casts more light on his wounds and Norman's dripping red hands, everything standing out in harsh golden relief. 

"What can I do for you, Mr. Osborn?" 

Norman takes Bob's hands in his, staining Bob's clean hands with dark red splashes. Bob looks at Norman, unperturbed, as his hands are placed on the man's neck, which tenses and untenses with labored, fearful breaths. 

"Put him out of his misery, will you?" Norman says softly. 

Bob's eyes cast downward for a moment; he knows Norman is more than capable of doing this himself. Asking Bob is simply proving a point. Another demonstration of loyalty that Bob needs to perform to show Norman how grateful he truly is. 

The room fills, for a moment, with golden light, and the screams abruptly stop. 

He turns and catches a glint of a smile on Norman's face moments before the lights flicker back to normal. Bob smiles back. As always, he's happy to please.


End file.
